Strike Team Chaos
by Sandylee007
Summary: Before they became Avengers, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton were Strike Team Delta. This collection re-visits some of their most intense and ridiculous missions together. Budapest, Beirut, Moscow, and many more. Chaos goes wherever these two do.                ONESHOT COLLECTION, CAN BE SEEN AS STRIKE TEAM DELTA ORIGIN STORY
1. Vienna

A/N: This idea has been bugging me FOR DAYS, keeping me from typing ANYTHING else. So… I had very little choice but to get started. And here we are. (chuckles)

DISCLAIMER: Me… owns… nothing. Well, aside a pile of DVDs and a few figurines I'm ridiculously fond of.

WARNINGS: Language, violence, adult themes… (Sorry Steve, this may not be your cup of tea…) This is young Clint and Natasha, after all.

THIS IS A COLLECTION OF ONESHOTS, AND THEY WON'T NECESSARILY BE IN CHORONOLOGICAL ORDER. I'll do my best to keep you guys from getting confused, though. (smiles)

Sooo… Because I'm ridiculously 'cold feet' about this… Let's get started already! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

THIS TALE IS WHERE IT ALL BEGAN.

* * *

 ** _Strike Team Chaos_**

* * *

Vienna

* * *

The infamous Black Widow, officially Natalia Romanova, was a merciless, ice-cold murderer. A machine trained to perfection since she was a child. She'd long since stopped counting how many lives she'd ended. But no matter how much she would've preferred convincing the world otherwise she was just a human being. And on that bitterly cold, rainy day of late autumn she hadn't slept in almost three full days. She was so exhausted that she could barely see straight and ached all over. Four completed… assignments in a week and a half, three hand-to-hand fights and jumping out of a moving vehicle does that to a person. She would've wanted and needed a long nap. Too bad she had a job to do.

" _You seem troubled._ "

Natalia fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she peered over her shoulder with the best fake-smile she could muster. " _It's been a long day._ " She ran her hand down the man's thigh. Slowly, sensually. " _Maybe you can help me with the tension._ "

The man was Aleksei Jahns. Arms dealer who, to his misfortune, succeeded in upsetting the wrong people. Which made those 'wrong people' hire her. He was strikingly good looking but probably hadn't been to a single fight in his life. Which made him easy to subdue. Practically harmless. The three bodyguards watching over them with far from trusting eyes were another matter altogether.

For her to be able to get the job done she needed to get him alone. And there was only one unpleasant way to do it. She was called Black Widow for a good reason.

Aleksei looked at her with a smirk that suggested she was close to accomplishing her goal. A greedy pair of brown eyes sized her up and down slowly. " _Well._ " He snapped his fingers and in a heartbeat the guards disappeared. " _What fool would say 'no' to a lady like you._ "

Natalia laughed and pressed herself closer to him. Her hand had already grabbed a knife. " _I'm a lot of things, Aleksei. But I'm no lady._ " She was just about to seal the deal when…

" _Daddy?_ " A little girl with big, bright eyes ran to the garden. How old was she? Five? Six? Her long, red hair was a mess. " _I had a bad dream._ "

Aleksei clicked his tongue disapprovingly. " _What have I told you about interrupting adults, Dora?_ " He scooped the child into his arms, anyway, and planted a kiss to the girl's hair.

Dora leaned her head gratefully against his shoulder. " _Sorry, daddy._ " The child then noticed her and smiled shyly. " _Hi._ "

Apparently Natalia wasn't quite as soulless as she'd imagined. Because there, at the sight of an innocent child, her hand stilled. She did something that she was never, ever supposed to do, under any circumstances. Something that cost those in her profession their lives. She hesitated. Couldn't bring herself to slaughter the man in front of his little girl. " _Hi_ ", was all she managed to utter. Unable to think past how much like her as a child Dora looked. And wondered if her eyes were ever quite so innocent.

In that moment Aleksei wasn't a monster, either. The man put his daughter back down with the gentleness of a parent. " _I have a very important meeting. But I'll come and tuck you in soon, with some biscuits. How does that sound?_ "

Dora smiled like the sun itself and nodded eagerly. After a kiss to her daddy's cheek and a shy little wave at Natalia the child left. The assassin couldn't shake off the painful twist close to her abdomen, from where something she never even wanted was once stolen. Her mind taunted her with a brief mental imagine of what she'd never have. It was jarring how much Dora looked like the child she sometimes had unwanted dreams of.

Then, as quickly as she nearly lost control she regained it and reminded herself of what mattered at the moment.

At that very second one of Aleksei's bodyguards walked out. The look in the man's eyes was Natalia's first warning. The second came when the guard started whispering in her target's ear, head turned pointedly away from her. She tensed up, analyzing the situation.

Just a couple of hours earlier everything had been going according to her plan. She met Aleksei at a party and succeeded in manipulating him into taking her to his mansion. She knew that there was only so much time to spare before she'd get caught.

The look in Aleksei's eyes revealed that she'd crossed her time limit. She gritted her teeth to avoid groaning. Her hand tightened around the knife. Well, she did have a feeling that this was going to be a long night…

" _Black Widow._ " Aleksei practically hissed out the name. " _I knew that they'd send someone. The amount of money I stole…_ " The man licked his lips, his gaze nearly manic. " _So… I was prepared. For anyone._ "

From the corner of her eye Natalia noticed two more guards approaching her from behind. She was more than ready to tackle them when their colleague beside Aleksei pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.

Aleksei smirked. Relief shone in the criminal's wide, wild eyes. " _End her._ "

Natalia twitched. It was enough to make the guard fire twice. She felt no impact, no pain, and frowned from confusion. Until there were two thuds. The guards behind her dropped like stones, each sporting a new hole in the middle of a forehead.

Aleksei's eyes were somehow able to widen further. The man swallowed thickly. It was incredible to see someone so merciless appear utterly terrified. " _What…?_ "

To her shame and outrage Natalia hadn't noticed the second gun until it was fired. The criminal fought back fiercely, with fists, legs and grunted curses. Attempted to pull off the dart on his neck. But the guard's hold never once broke and quite soon the drug took effect. The two of them watched the arms dealer and murderer slump down, heavily unconscious but breathing.

Natalia's eyes narrowed while they took in the man she now considered her rival and opponent. Not exactly tall but very athletic. Heavily armed. Dangerous. " _So they sent another one?_ "

"Not really", the other denied infuriatingly cheerily. Obviously aware of the fact that she was fluent in English. "It hasn't been just the criminals keeping an eye on him." He flashed a grin towards her. "Usually there are way too many people around him to provide an opening. Thanks, for giving me this opportunity."

Without hesitating for a beat Natalia had a gun trained on the stranger. "You just ruined my business. Give me one good reason not to shoot you."

"How about two?" He sounded so sure of himself that it made her want to punch him. Their eyes met before he focused on the still unconscious criminal. "You're not as coldblooded as people say, Natalia. That much became very clear to me today."

Natalia's jawline tightened painfully. The itch to pull the trigger was so fierce that it burned, but something inside her… "You said there were two reasons. Hurry up, before I lose my patience."

He looked at her in a knowing manner she detested instantly. "You're too curious. You won't off me until you know who I work for."

Natalia snorted. He was seriously playing with fire. And she hated the fact that he was right. How was she supposed to put him out before finding out who he was, how he knew her and who sent him. It was all professional curiosity, of course. And it was a sting to her pride that he was able to interfere with her business like this. "You assume a lot."

He chuckled. "I know. Bad habit." He then listened to something, which was when she noticed the tiny item behind his ear. "Target down. Let's wrap this up." In a couple of seconds his attention was back on her. "So… This has been a nice little bonding session. But I think we'll have to continue some other time." The stranger grabbed a hold of the criminal and by then they heard the sounds of an approaching aircraft. Moments later it was above them and a rope fell. The still conscious man was quick to wrap it securely around himself. One wave of a hand, one last insufferably bright grin, and the men were catapulted towards the sky. "See you later, Natalia."

Natalia refused to admit that she was impressed as she watched the black jet hovering above practically swallowing the men. She glared at the soon disappearing aircraft. Irritation and frustration bubbled in her veins like acid.

It wasn't bad enough that the smug bastard ruined her assignment. He also made her freeze a second time in one night. She was definitely going to make him pay for it. The next time they met she'd kill him.

Because something told her that this wasn't the last time she'd see that smirk.

* * *

Inside the aircraft Phil Coulson shook his head with a sigh as the men stumbled in, one gracefully, the other a still unconscious heap. He had to bite back a fond smile despite being almost sure that half of his hair had turned gray over the past three weeks. "Did you have fun?"

Clint Barton smirked. Visibly exhausted but in one piece. It was much better than Phil had dared to expect after a three weeks long undercover mission. "Yup", the younger man confirmed, popping the final letter. A calloused hand patted the top of Aleksei's head. "And you'll have fun with this one, too. He's got some pretty interesting tales to sing. I think he can lead us to at least three big crime bosses. Including Franks. There's a meeting we've gotta crash in…" The agent checked the time. "… eight hours. That's why I decided to call off this charade now, before he would've noticed something and warned Franks."

Well. It seemed that this mission was definitely a success. "Anderson, Wilkens, get Jahns settled. I think he and I will become best friends soon." Once the agents had obeyed and left he refocused on the younger man, who was stretching with a wince. "Who was the girl?"

Clint grinned. _That_ look _never_ promised anything good. "Trouble."

* * *

End of tale

* * *

A/N: I so have the 'Mission Impossible' theme playing in my head right now. (chuckles) Go Clint, taking down this slimeball and heading towards a bigger one! Poor Natasha, though. This had to sting her pride. Wonder how pleasant their next meeting will be…?

Soooo… Was this ANY good? Would you like to read more of these tales? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you ALWAYS makes my day.

REQUESTS ARE VERY MUCH WELCOME!

In any case, THANK YOU so much for reading! Maybe I'll even see you again one day.

Take care!


	2. Moscow

A/N: I'm BAAAAAACK! And I've got another mission report (well, sort of…) with me. What do you guys reckon happened when Clint was sent to kill Natasha? Here's my take.

First, though… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews, love and support! They mean THE WORLD to me. (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get mushy enough to make Natasha gag… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Moscow

* * *

Natalia Romanova had taken several shady assignments from both Red Room and private… employers. Without remorse, she told herself. Red Room taught her better than to allow regret over the lives she took. And yet, as she took in the building in front of her…

Natalia seethed. And in a flash she was holding her phone so tightly that it was a small miracle she didn't break the item. " _When were you going to tell me that the target is a children's hospital?_ "

There was an exasperated sigh from the other end. "The target isn't the hospital. It's a doctor working there, who will soon hand S.H.I.E.L.D information that may take down Red Room. We are not going to let that happen, are we, Natalia?" The threat was unvoiced but loudly evident.

 _Betray us and we'll kill you, whoever you are_ – Dr. Yulia Volkov was about to learn that lesson with the cost of her life.

Natalia clenched her teeth. " _And the children?_ " She didn't want to even guess how many.

The answer wasn't surprising. But still turned her stomach. "Collateral damage."

" _No kids._ " She sounded like an outraged, wounded wild beast. " _That was the only thing I…!_ "

"What makes you imagine that you'd have the right to demand anything?" The other's tone was still chillingly calm. "You are an asset. And I will use The Words if I have to."

Natalia froze. A breathtakingly powerful mixture of fear and rage flowed through her. " _No_ ", she growled. Not again…!

"Homeless…"

Natalia wanted to hang up. Even if it would've meant being on a run for the rest of her miserable life. Because in that moment the need to remain in control was far more powerful than any amount of training or loyalty. But her muscles refused to function.

"Six…"

For some reason Natalia's eyes locked on a sparrow, sitting on the other side of the road. They stared at each other for a long moment before the bird rose to its wings and flew away. She was desperate to do the same. But eight more words later her free will was undone.

* * *

Clint Barton had often been described as brash. And there were times when he was a careless idiot. He was an adult enough to admit that much. But he always listened to his heart when making his decisions, for better or for worse. He never pulled a trigger or launched an arrow before he was absolutely certain that it was the right call. He'd done enough things in his life that kept him up at night to wish to avoid doing more of such crap as far as he could.

And then, on a bitterly cold day of winter, he was ordered to take down the infamous Black Widow.

Clint had only met her once, three years earlier. He still remembered the tormented look she had in her eyes. The way she hesitated at the sight of the little girl.

"Stop frowning, Barton. She burned down a children's hospital. In the process she killed three S.H.I.E.L.D agents and four members of staff."

Clint's eyebrow bounced up as he shifted his attention from the security footage to Nick Fury. "What were those agents doing at a children's hospital?" Something about this whole thing didn't seem right to him.

"They were there to meet a potential informant. The rest is classified information." Something in Fury's remaining eye revealed that the man was as suspicious as he was. "I have a team investigating the whole thing. Your job is to take down Black Widow."

"So that's what we do now? We just… whack people without any interrogation? I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D was supposed to be above that." This new assignment chilled Clint. Fury wasn't usually this bloodthirsty and didn't seem any more pleased than he was. Who from higher above gave the kill-order and why? "Don't you think she might have valuable information? She's from Red Room and we've been trying and failing to shut down that place for a while, now." He was particularly curious to know who she called, who triggered a visible transformation in her.

From the corner of his eye he saw Coulson biting back a pleased smirk. Fury was far less impressed. "Do your job. The rest of us will do ours."

It was never, ever a good idea to say those words to Clint Barton.

* * *

With S.H.I.E.L.D's resources and Clint's own natural talent when it came to finding all things promising trouble, it was easy to find Natalia. Russia would've been his first pick, anyway. He flirted out the correct hotel room's number from the receptionist, then made his way to the elevator. He got company exactly one second before the doors closed.

With just one glance he could tell that there was something wrong with Natalia. Her eyes seemed different, colder. Under slightly less hazardous circumstances he might've congratulated himself over sniffing mind control when he saw it.

Stuck in an elevator with a visibly pissed off, brainwashed top-class assassin wasn't the right time to celebrate.

Clint gave her his most disarming grin. "Hey. Remember me?" He barely managed to dodge the blade thrown at him. "I take that as a 'yes'."

"What are you doing here?" Natalia demanded, her tone colder than ice.

Clint took a deep breath. This was going about as well as he expected. "I just wanna talk." Regardless of what his actual mission was. "We can do it the easy way or…"

He wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the fist flying at his face.

"Hard way it is, then."

* * *

Natalia came back to herself slowly, aching all over. She checked her phone and discovered that three days, eighteen hours and eleven minutes had passed by from the hospital fire. A distant part of her wondered how much longer she'd keep counting the minutes before she'd be carved hollow enough to stop caring. How much longer she'd keep hearing the echoes of children screaming in pain and terror. Those horrible events felt like a hazy nightmare but the screams remained, agonizingly real and solid.

She pushed herself to a sitting position slowly, dizzy and stiff. The hotel room's bed sighed softly under her motions. It was snowing outside. She shivered, recognizing both the room and the city spreading outside.

She hated Moscow almost as much as she hated winter.

And then there was the issue of a far too familiar man sitting in the room. "Gotta admit…" Oh, she remembered that voice. "You can punch." She also remembered that arrogant smirk, which was diminished only slightly by the mighty bruise close to the young man's jawline.

A lightning quick hand reached out for her firearm. Only to stop when he showed her the small handgun she'd had hidden under her clothing. "Thanks, but I've gotten myself shot enough times. I'd rather have a chat." He tilted his head. "Good to see that you're… the real you again."

Natalia's eyes narrowed. Her throbbing skull went through her options busily. He was just one man – she wouldn't let him get the upper hand again. But before making her move she'd play docile long enough to get answers. "What did you do to me?"

He shrugged. "Cognitive recalibration." Her narrowing eyes urged him to clarify. "I hit you really hard in the head. Because… Well, you were trying to kill me." A pair of eyes studied her carefully enough to make her feel defensive and uncomfortable. "Care to explain what happened at the hospital?"

Why, exactly, did he imagine that it was any of his business? Why was he even talking to her? Nothing about the idiot and his actions made sense to her. It was far more painless to focus on him than on the blurry memories. _Let's get back to the here and now, buddy._ "You were sent to kill me." It was fairly easy to guess as much. It was far harder to try and figure out why, exactly, he hadn't gotten the job done yet.

He tensed up. And for the first time she saw past the smug, carefree front. Realized how much more battle-worn he seemed than the previous time they met. "I don't know about you, Nat… But I've seen enough death and killed enough people for a lifetime. I'd much rather give you something to live for."

Natalia scoffed. She definitely wasn't about to become this arrogant bastard's new charity project. "Thanks, but I don't need help."

"Maybe you don't." His eyes reminded her of a predator closing in for a kill. "If you want to waste the rest of your life as a mindless murderer working for people who wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet in your head if it'd suit their needs." He got up and stretched. "Besides, it's not charity. I'm offering you a trade."

Natalia clenched her jaw.

"You tell me exactly what happened at that hospital. Help me understand what Red Room is about. And I'll lead you to the woman who made you kill those children."

* * *

The hotel room of Vera Verutz, one of those highest on Red Room's food chain, was luxurious. The scar faced woman looked up the second she heard Natalia entering. Vera's still seeing blue eye flashed. " _Evening, Natalia. I suppose it'd be pointless to call for security?_ " the woman mused infuriatingly calmly.

Natalia had never been a big fan of remorse. She'd make Vera pay for setting a seed of regret in her. " _It would_ ", she confirmed. The two men who… greeted her at the door were already gone.

Vera tapped at the chair next to her. " _Sit, little Natalia. It seems that we need to talk._ "

The memories came in stab-like lashes. All the pain, suffering and humiliation that woman had put her through, since she was a little girl. Yet she obeyed like a well-trained fighting dog, tore anyone to shreds when commanded. Until the voice echoing in her head and urging her to remain loyal was drowned out by to the sounds of the children screaming. " _How many?_ " she growled. " _How many children?_ "

Vere looked at her. Saw the slight tremor of her hands, the new shadows in her eyes. And sighed in disappointment. " _Natalia, we trained you better than this._ " The woman's lips opened but this time Natalia didn't freeze.

Natalia lunged at the woman she used to consider her protector, her teacher, her role model, her handler. With a single, brutal swing she crushed Vera's jaw. Because even if she'd always be a monster… At least she'd be herself.

But the fight wasn't quite over yet. While Natalia was far younger than the almost fifty-years-old woman Vera was a great deal more experienced. And absolutely merciless, especially when wounded and crossed.

It was like the encounter of two wild beasts. One of them sporting a broken jaw, they hissed and grunted as punches and kicks flew. Natalia slammed Vera's head at the floor. As a payback the woman threw her at the wall, with almost enough force to make the redhead see stars. By the time Natalia came to herself a hand slammed at her windpipe, determined to crush it. There was absolutely no humanity in Vera's seeing eye as it glared at her.

To Vera killing the woman she'd practically raised since Natalia was five was nothing more than throwing away a broken toy.

Well. Too bad Natalia wasn't going to let herself be tossed away quite so easily. Because there, struggling for breath… Something sparked to life. The kind of desire to live she'd never experienced before. The dangerous hope the mystery-man planted into a part of her that wasn't supposed to exist sparked to life like a bonfire. And so, with a choked but still mighty growl, she kicked as hard as she possibly could and sent them stumbling.

The women spun, clashed once more, then slammed right at the room's massive window. It moaned. Then, the weight of two adults becoming too much, cracked.

For a moment Natalia felt like she was flying. Then reality set in. She had a split second to make her decision – to fall, or to fight for her life. A flash before it would've been too late her hand reached out and grabbed. She didn't even notice the pain when shards of broken glass dug greedily into her skin. Nor did she pay attention to the agony flaring in her abused shoulder as it suffered the brunt of her full weight.

Down below Vere kept spiraling down, down and down…

Natalia shuddered and nearly lost her grip when a large, calloused hand grabbed her wrist. Looking up, she saw the man who'd been sent to kill her reaching out his free hand towards her. The other held on to her wrist so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "I'm not going to let you fall and die, so grab my goddamned hand and hold on!"

It was the first time in her life Natalia Romanova didn't feel all alone in the world. So she did what every little bit of her training told her not to. She obeyed, and held on.

For a while Natalia was sure that he'd tear off her arm. The glass digging into her skin with every new inch definitely didn't make the experience any more enjoyable. But slowly, slowly, he hauled her to safety. They were both out of breath and trembling.

"Feel better?" the man inquired at last.

Natalia swallowed thickly. "Much." Not yet, not really. But she would feel better, now that no one was controlling her like she was a puppet. She'd never let anyone take over her mind again.

"Awesome." Had she been a little less preoccupied, emotionally compromised, she might've noticed him moving before he went on. "Sorry about this. But I've gotta make sure that you keep your end of our deal."

She had no hope of reacting quickly enough before a needle pierced her skin. She fought back, with all her vigor. But he held her firmly and eventually the substance began to kick in.

"This is for your own good." His voice seemed to come through some sort of a tunnel. It echoed painfully. "Next time you see me… I'll tell you my name."

Just before Natalia's world faded to black she wondered just what she'd gotten herself into.

* * *

Clint's head spun as he stared at the unconscious assassin in front of him. He not only just disobeyed direct orders to kill her. He also saved her life, a second time.

He had no idea if she'd be allowed to stay alive when he'd take her to S.H.I.E.L.D. He had no idea if he was about to drag her from one life of pure hell to another. There was no telling if he was making a huge mistake. (Wouldn't be the first of that variety in his life…) But after seeing those brief flashes of the real her he knew that he had to at least try, whatever the cost. Because he was only alive due to someone showing him similar mercy.

/ _"Everyone needs at least one person in this world who believes in them."_ /

Clint groaned and rubbed his face roughly with one hand. He was so very, royally, absolutely screwed. After a few moments he raised a hand to his ear. "Coulson? I just made a mess."

There was a loud sigh from Phil's end. " _Do I even want to ask?_ " It was insulting, really, that his handler didn't sound even remotely surprised over him getting himself into a trouble.

"I think Fury's gonna kill me when he finds out what I've done…"

* * *

End of mission

* * *

A/N: (chuckles) So… Our two idiots have officially found each other. Whether Natasha likes it or not… IN THE NEXT ONE we'll see what their first S.H.I.E.L.D mission together will be like… I doubt anyone expects smooth sailing… Poor Phil – he's got two to babysit, now…!

SOOOO… Was that ANY good, AT ALL? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you makes my day.

Until next time! I really hope that you'll join in for that one.

Take care!


	3. Geneva

A/N: Some bits of this addition took longer to create than I thought they would. BUT, here we are! Let's see what sort of a mess these two will be in this time…

FIRST, though…! THANK YOU, SO MUCH, for all your reviews, love and support! (hugs) It means a lot to know that you're out there, eager to read more.

Awkay, because stalling is rude… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Geneva

* * *

At first Natalia expected someone from S.H.I.E.L.D to complete Barton's original mission and attempt to kill her. Especially during the first two weeks, which she spent basically locked up like a caged animal under observation. After that she expected them to arrest her officially or to be handed over to Russian authorities, like the criminal she was. Yet a week after another passed and the people around her refused to do what she expected them to. Barton in particular confused her. Day after day he came to see her, meeting her silence with careless chatter and her frosty attitude with a sickening amount of warmth. Phil Coulson, who was officially in charge over her and took care of her interrogation, was far more professional and not even half as mouthy, but equally warm. Eventually the man even agreed to let her start training, which actually surprised her. No matter how much she told herself not to she began to relax around the two, slowly yet surely. She told them everything she knew about Red Room, trained hard to improve as soon as she was allowed to and even behaved, most of the time. Well, some of the time. (She did owe them something for saving her life, didn't she?) Along with those two, medical professionals, a poor unfortunate psychiatrist who tried to evaluate her for two weeks before giving up and an ever-changing parade of training instructors she always felt someone watching. And couldn't stop wondering who the person was or what they wanted.

It wasn't a surprise that the other young and older S.H.I.E.L.D agents weren't even nearly as friendly towards her as Barton. To them she was the enemy only a little while ago, after all. A mission. She could feel how they all expected her to betray them, to show her supposed true colors. It made her fight harder to do the polar opposite because she'd been trained all her life to defy expectations, to avoid being too predictable in the face of enemies. As a repayment they attempted to take their frustration and mistrust out on her during training sessions. She only shrugged their attitude off and welcomed the challenge. Eventually she was pitted against no one but Barton and Coulson because they were the only two agents she didn't send out of the ring with broken bones.

From behind a glass masked to look like a mirror Nick Fury observed her training with Clint with the beginning of a grin on his face. He would've never, ever admitted as much out loud. But he was starting to like the girl.

"I think it's time", Phil announced beside him. "She's clearly not going to betray us. So yeah, her cooperation skills leave a lot to be desired. But I think she's ready to try out fieldwork."

"And if she does betray us?" Fury agreed with the younger man. But he didn't have to let Phil know as much immediately.

The man in a suit shifted his attention to Clint. The young man was spinning with Natalia and grinning, like the two were dancing instead of trying to hit each other. "We'll send her out there with someone who can handle her." _Without wanting to kill her after the first twenty-four hours_ , was unvoiced but loudly in the air.

* * *

Natalia couldn't believe what she was hearing. They were sending her to field? "Geneva?"

Coulson nodded with that usual pleasant but infuriatingly unreadable expression of his. The man pressed a button and a massive picture of a man appeared. "Antoni Dutch. He's been connected to at least three international criminal organizations. And now he's about to sell some potentially disastrous information. Good news? We have his current location. Bad news? He's also a politician and under the protection of diplomatic immunity, so the local authorities are refusing to hand him over the legal way. He also seems to know the right people. Which means that we…"

"… are screwed", Clint filled in bluntly. There was a spark in the young man's eyes, though. The idiot seemed to enjoy a good challenge as much as Natalia did, she mused with a degree of amusement.

"No." Phil looked like the parent of acting up children who was struggling to keep his cool. "We just have to be… discreet."

"Discreet?" Natalia echoed. "And you're sending _us_?"

Phil actually had the nerve to grin at that. Like there was something funny about this whole mess they'd be tossed into. "You two made quite the reputation as assassins before getting re-recruited. Prove to me that you earned the reputation and get Dutch without… upsetting the wrong people."

* * *

As soon as the two had left Fury walked in through a secret entrance. Appeared seemingly from thin air, as was often his custom. There was a solemn expression on the one-eyed man's face. "They're going to cause a diplomatic disaster", the director predicted grimly.

Phil shrugged. "Maybe. Or not. Those two have made a habit out of surprising us."

* * *

Natalia wasn't impressed when he saw Clint taking the pilot's seat of the Quinjet. One of her eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"

Clint smirked at her mistrust. "I've known how to fly this thing for years. Sit down and buckle up."

Natalia did albeit not happily. She'd never been a fan of flying. "If you fly as horribly as you drive I'll kill you."

"You've never been in a car with me driving", he pointed out without sounding offended.

"During the time I've been here you've been brought to medical four times after some sort of a car or motorcycle accident."

"It's not my fault that the bad guys always try to shoot me down or blow me up when I'm driving." There was a beat of silence as they began the takeoff. "For the record, it's sweet that you care enough to count."

"Shut up before I make you, Barton."

* * *

After the tedious flight Natalia found herself relaxing over the three days of necessary observation which followed. Most of the time even Barton's company was tolerable, which she would've never admitted to the man. (His ego was inflated enough.) On day four she was sitting at a café and decided that she liked the city. Her partner didn't seem to agree. "You're suspiciously quiet", she noted, mindful to not let anyone notice that she was talking. He'd been quiet since they arrived.

" _We're on a mission._ " Clint was somewhere up there, keeping watch. It didn't bother her as much as it should've that she couldn't see him. " _And… I'm not a fan of this city._ "

"Bad memories?"

" _Bad date._ " Before there was enough time to urge him to clarify he switched topics. " _Target spotted. At your six o'clock, approaching slowly._ "

Natalia tensed up, her whole focus zeroing solely to the task on hand. The plan was simple, really. Over the past couple of days they'd discovered that Dutch stopped by at this very café at exactly the same time every single morning. Which made sense because one of his apartments was at the same building. Horribly sloppy of someone in profession but it helped them. The only problem was to get him somewhere without prying eyes. As much as Natalia disliked stepping back to his Black Widow ways the role she was to play now came naturally. She flashed the criminal her most seductive smile the second their eyes met.

Which was when things stopped going according to their plan. Because Dutch's gaze was quick to find another, obviously far more desirable target. She felt far more amused than she should've upon looking towards the same direction. "Change of plans", she declared. "This gentleman prefers blond men."

Clint groaned. Loudly. " _I_ hate _Geneva._ "

* * *

It wasn't Clint's first situation of… this variety. Which didn't make it any more pleasant. Two days later he was leaning against the café's counter, supposedly waiting for his order, when a shadow appeared. Dutch's voice was ridiculously deep. " _One glass of champagne._ "

As the barista hurried to comply Clint's eyebrow bounced up. " _I wasn't aware that they serve alcohol here._ "

The smile darted his way was that of a Cheshire cat. " _They serve anything when the right person asks. And you look like you could use a drink…?_ "

" _Will_ ", he returned without a beat of hesitation, his most commonly used false identity rolling easily.

" _Will._ " A ridiculously well-manicured hand offered the recently arrived glass towards him. A pair of hazel predator's eyes observed to make sure that he'd drink it. " _Maybe your day will improve from here._ "

Clint smiled wryly. He had a limited amount of options, because there was no way he could trick this guy with how closely he was monitored. He could leave the drink untouched and cause a scene. He could blow his cover and wreck the whole mission. Or he could do the stupidest thing and trust Natalia to have his back afterwards. " _Well… My day can't get much worse._ " He downed the drink and his sensitive tongue was quick to spy an odd flavor. " _Thank you._ "

Dutch returned his smile was an ice-cold one. " _My pleasure._ "

Clint was hyper-aware of the fact that people had started taking their distance from them. Like this was a spectacle they'd seen too many times already. He got up, straightened, and pretended that he stumbled. Better play his hand before the drug would take effect.

Dutch was quick and eager to support him. The man's fingers dug painfully into his shoulder. " _Let me take you somewhere quiet. Where you can rest._ " That, in Clint's humble opinion, might just be the creepiest pickup line in the history of mankind.

He let the man take the lead. His own hand moved subtly behind the criminal, one plastic-covered finger brushing the naked skin of a wrist seemingly innocently. Dutch didn't notice a thing. Clint used to be a stellar thief. Now it was a waiting game to see which one's drug would take affect first.

As soon as they made it to the elevator and the door closed he felt something hard pressing against his back. " _Oh. Someone's eager_ ", the teased.

" _Being taken for an idiot does that to me_ ", Dutch growled. The gun pressed harder. " _I have eyes and ears everywhere. Did you think that you and your girlfriend wouldn't be noticed? That you can come snooping around?_ "

" _Girlfriend?_ " He winced. " _She's gonna make you pay for that one._ "

The fist slamming him at a wall was harsh but he'd been waiting for it. " _You… are going tell me everything. Including who you work for. Or my men will kill your girlfriend._ "

Clint pursed his lips, as though actually considering it. Then shook his head. His fingers were already tingling, going numb, and his head spun. He wasn't worried. " _Nah. I don't think so._ "

* * *

Natalia was, of course, listening to the whole thing and gritting her teeth to not snarl at her idiot of a partner. While Clint was dragged towards the elevator she was on the move. Only to get cornered by five burly men as soon as she got up from the table. She smiled sweetly at them.

With how outraged she was at Clint's plan, she was going to enjoy this.

People started screaming when kicks and punches flew. Mostly from Natalia. Good. If any non-S.H.I.E.L.D-related officials would ask later they'd describe one of the most famous assassins in the whole world. She'd make sure that no one would remember Clint ever being there.

One of the men attacking her was slammed right at the table. The second flew like a ragdoll and landed heavily at a support pillar. The next two she wrapped up right there and then, eager to get going. The fifth one destroyed a middle-aged couple's lattes by landing on their table. She didn't waste time on empty apologies before rushing onwards. From the corner of her eye she noticed that she still had three tails. She let one of them get close, jumped and twisted. It was almost insulting.

What sort of amateurs did Dutch have working for him?

Outraged, she threw tail number two to the ground so hard that there was a crack. Which was followed by a gunshot. Natalia scowled when a bullet grazed her arm mercilessly, causing a tiny inferno of pain. She growled, loudly, then fired a single shot right between the eyes before the man could even think to shoot at her again.

She wasn't a fan of handguns but she was too furious to care.

Satisfied with the chaos she was leaving behind, she spun on her heels, marched out of the café to find a hallway and pressed the button of an elevator. She blinked twice at what greeted her when the doors opened. Dutch and Clint lay on the floor in a very compromising position, larger man on top of the smaller. Dutch was out cold and Clint didn't seem to be far behind.

Natalia stepped in as quickly as she could and pressed the button to Dutch's floor. "Do you have any idea how stupid you were to walk into his trap?" she growled.

Clint shrugged. As much as someone pinned down by a grown man could. "'s okay. Knew you'd come."

Natalia sighed heavily and shook her head. "You okay down there?" She nodded towards Dutch after receiving an unconvincing thumbs up. "What did you use? How long does he have?" There was no response. Glancing swiftly towards her partner with worry she refused to admit she discovered that he was no longer awake. She snorted. "So I'm going to do all the heavy lifting? Thanks."

Mercifully the floor they reached was empty. Natalia spotted only one security camera. She threw a tiny disc she… borrowed from S.H.I.E.L.D's teach department at it, then waited until the light stopped blinking before starting to drag Dutch towards his room. This was what they came to do, after all.

The criminal snored loudly as he lay on the floor. She stared at him for exactly one second. Then did what was necessary to seal the mission. She wasn't going to wait around to ensure that whatever Clint gave the man would seal the deal.

No more than twenty seconds later it was all over with. Getting up, she frowned at a slash of pain radiating from her arm. She looked down and was forced to face the fact that it wasn't just a scratch. A clean through and through, but would need stitches. Another scar to the collection.

She wrapped up the injury quickly and was immediately on the move. Clint was where she left him by the elevator. Giggling. "… never seducing a rich guy again", he slurred.

Natalia rolled her eyes. Was this day ever going to end? "Technically, you didn't seduce this one. Now let's go." She ushered him into motion so enthusiastically that he nearly stumbled. "There's gonna be a party over here soon and I'm not planning on sticking around for it."

Natalia was no stranger to borrowing cars. Maneuvering Clint inside was another matter, because he barely stayed on his feet. He wouldn't stop staring at his own hand, which he waved in front of his eyes. As soon as they were at a safe distance from the disaster area that was their mission she snatched her phone and dialed.

"Coulson?" Natalia's voice came out sharper than she'd expected. She told herself that she wasn't worried as she noticed that her partner was unconscious and checked his pulse. A little thready but still there. "Target's down but Barton's out cold. You'd better arrange someone to pick us up because I'm not touching that piece of junk you had him fly us here with. And… We may have left a bit of a mess…"

* * *

Phil went along with the team headed to pick up Clint and Natalia. Purely because he was the one who sent them there and felt responsible, of course. It had nothing to do with the knot of worry swelling in the pit of his stomach.

Phil had no idea what he was expecting. The worst, most likely. He actually groaned upon following the path of destruction, terrified people and unconscious or dead men. Unsurprisingly the local police was already there. He took over their crime scene with practiced ease, all the while much too aware of the numerous pairs of eyes ogling at him.

So much for 'subtle'…

Well, Dutch had most definitely been… handled. Phil wrinkled his nose. "Clean up this mess", he ordered the team. "I have some scolding to do."

S.H.I.E.L.D had only one safehouse in Geneva so finding Clint and Natalia wasn't a challenge. He marched in with a heavy, weary sigh and wondered if this was how parenthood felt like. "So, I saw Dutch. Was that absolutely necessary?"

"Yes. That was my… usual signature. A message. And since those working for and protecting that bastard have no idea that Black Widow works for S.H.I.E.L.D now they'll think that this was just another contract job. I'm sure that there's a parade of people who could've sent a killer after him." Natalia appeared incredibly irritated. Which probably had something to with the fact that Clint was leaning heavily on her, totally knocked out and drooling on her shirt with a dopey little smile on his face. For some reason she hadn't pushed the man away. "What the hell took you so long?"

Phil had a feeling that those two were going to make him turn grey young. But he couldn't help smiling. He decided that the scolding could wait.

* * *

Clint didn't wake up again until they were at S.H.I.E.L.D's medical wing, he recovering from the drug and Natalia nursing a bullet wound that wasn't just a scratch. Of course her bandage was the first thing the young man noticed, bleary as his eyes were, and poked. "… hurt …"

"I'll live." She fought the urge to yawn. It'd been a long day. "And so will you. Though you'll have a pretty bad headache and a nasty case of nausea."

Clint's brows furrowed. The man thought hard for a moment. "… 'sn't sound nice."

One corner of Natalia's lips twitched. "No, it won't be. So get some sleep while you can."

"'feel good now", Clint assessed, sounding as sure of himself as someone incredibly drunk. The man's head lolled, gaze focusing on her fingers. Or somewhere around there. "… pretty hands."

That… had to be the most bizarre compliment she'd ever received. And that was saying a lot. "Idiot", she scoffed with more affection than she'd intended.

Clint pouted. He tried to point an accusing finger towards her but it didn't quite work out. "You're mean." He thought about his judgement for a long time. Then nodded so hard that his whole body jerked. "'s okay. 'still like you."

Natalia had to use all her willpower to keep herself from laughing out loud. "You're not all bad, either."

Clint was quiet and eerily still for so long that she imagined that he'd fallen asleep again. Until he mumbled barely audibly. "… 's weird… to be the damsel in distress, for once."

Natalia allowed herself to smile at last, knowing that with his eyes closed there was no one to see it. "You know… If what you did today is how you operate I think you'll be the damsel in distress a lot on our future missions."

Clint's eyes opened. Suddenly he didn't seem even half as sleepy as he did before. "'re staying?"

Natalia tensed up. Then nodded, very slowly. "Yeah. I'm staying." Because she had a debt to repay. And, if she was honest with herself… It was good to imagine a future with more than just death in it.

The smile Clint gave her was absolutely disarming. "Good." He yawned, his eyes about to flutter closed. "'t be Natalia, anymore. 'not her anymore."

It sounded like silly, drug-induced rambling. But the more Natalia thought about it, the more she had to admit that he was right. It'd happened without her noticing but she wasn't the same person he first met anymore. Because for the first time in her life she was _herself_. Not the product of merciless training, sickening scientific experiments and brainwashing. She was… Who _was she_? "Which name do you suggest?"

Clint pursed his lips, his eyes more than halfway closed. "Dunno", he admitted. "Nat… Tash… Natasha? 'an… 'thing Russian…" His eyes sparked with childish excitement, which lasted about two seconds until he started nodding off again. "Romanoff! Romanov…? 'ke that tsar." He was losing energy quickly. The way he kept squinting his eyes suggested that he was also getting that headache she warned him about earlier.

She resisted the desire to ruffle his front-hair, which had ended up wildly tussled in the day's excitement. "Sleep. Now. So I can make fun of you when you wake up."

Clint yawned again in a manner that reminded her of a relaxing cat. Then, remarkably, did as he was told for once. Or maybe it was the drug that knocked out the unhealthily stubborn man.

Natalia faced the medical wing's white ceiling and found herself relaxing as well. Natasha Romanoff. She could get used to that name. It had a nice ring to it. (Not that she'd ever tell Clint that he invented it, if he happened to forget.)

Either she was deeper in thought than she'd imagined or the arrival had an incredible amount of stealth for a large man. But she didn't hear him until he spoke. "So he _is_ capable of listening."

Natalia turned her gaze sharply towards the arrival, her eyes narrowing. A few steps away stood a dark skinned, one-eyed man in a long black coat. "Who are you?" she demanded sharply.

The man didn't seem even slightly taken aback by her hostility. "Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. I came to congratulate you in person." Her frown urged him to clarify. "As far as I'm concerned, you passed your field exam today. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D, agent Romanoff."

So, yeah, she liked the sound of that. Even if she'd never admit it out loud. The following day she changed her name officially.

* * *

End of mission

* * *

A/N: Aaaaw! That was how Natalia became Natasha. (smiles) LOL, poor Clint – and Natasha, too…! But mostly, POOR PHIL. He's gonna have his hands full with these two…

SOOO… Was that ANY good, at all? PLEASE, leave a note to let me know! Hearing from you always makes my day.

Until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	4. Acapulco

A/N: I typed a couple of versions of this before THIS came out. (chuckles) We'll see just WHAT came out…

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews, love and support! They SERIOUSLY mean more to me than I can say. (HUGS)

Awkay, folks. It's showtime! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

 **WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS ALMOST M-RATED DUE TO GRAPHIC VIOLENCE.**

* * *

Acapulco

* * *

Black Widow was known to be a merciless killing machine who didn't hesitate to torture her victims for information. (She certainly also had other methods for… obtaining information.) She was still getting used to being Natasha Romanoff. In that process Clint – a reckless moron without any self-preservation instincts and with a heart of gold that'd get him killed one day – was invaluable help. Who was better for teaching her how to be human instead of a mindless monster than the most _human_ person she'd ever encountered? Than the one who spared her life and made her who she was today?

Natasha dared to assume that she was starting to know the ways of Clint Barton fairly well. She thought she did before they were sent to Mexico, anyway. It never occurred to her how much he might be hiding behind that almost ever-present, infuriating cocky smirk of his. Or how little she actually knew about _Hawkeye_.

It was her first rescue mission. Save two captured S.H.I.E.L.D agents who'd been missing and presumed dead for a long time from a drug cartel. Then go home. It was almost comfortingly normal that nothing went exactly according to the plan.

Handcuffs dug painfully to Natasha's wrists while two criminals escorted her towards the small but heavily armed building's cell-section. The rapidly forming, large bruise on her face also didn't exactly tickle. Instead of letting her discomfort show she looked around with a pleasant little smile. The ceiling was depressingly grey and filthy. A cockroach sped across the floor, narrowly missing her shoe. " _Cozy_ ", she complimented with very little sincerity.

" _Glad you think so_ ", the bigger of the men dragging her returned. " _Because you'll spend a lot of time here unless S.H.I.E.L.D agrees to pay good money for you._ " By then they'd reached a heavy metal-door. The man banged it with a massive fist. " _Cara! You're about to get a roommate!_ "

Natasha braced herself when the smaller criminal began to work on the door, back to her. There as a metallic 'click' and the lock was open. That was when she made her move.

Faster than a lightning Natasha swept forcefully with her leg, catching the man still holding her completely off guard. When he went down she followed immediately and slammed her elbow at the man's face with all her might. She smirked when a crack suggested that at least a nose had been broken. The force of her attack and his head slamming against the floor took the stunned man down instantly.

Which left her with problem number two. The smaller man turned towards her, completely forgetting about the door and the captive inside. Natasha bounced back to a standing position gracefully, ready for a fight. A swift, peppery fist came towards her and missed only narrowly. Without the use of her hands she responded with a kick the man dodged easily. They spun around each other for what felt like ages, both grunting a few times when the other's attack was successful. Until Natasha was finally where she'd wanted to get. Behind the man's back. Without wasting even a fraction of a second she slipped her cuffed hands over the man's head, pressing steel against his throat, and yanked. He struggled fiercely for a while and forced her to a very awkward piggy bag ride with her legs wrapped around him when he nearly managed to take her down. But eventually lack of oxygen worked its magic. He emitted a sickening sound and fell, unmoving.

Once again Natasha didn't waste time. According to her own count another team of six criminals would be there in about five minutes. While she and Clint would've been able to take on that many hostiles easily they had the rescues to consider. There was no telling what condition the two would be in.

She'd reached the slightly ajar door in a heartbeat and opened it fully with her foot. Inside, slumped to a corner and fighting to manage wheezing breaths, was a young woman who stared at her with wide eyes. She was Hispanic, young and very beautiful, although she seemed painfully thin, had bruises everywhere and her long, dark hair was a tangled mess. Natasha dreaded to imagine what else had been done to her during the eleven months she'd been held captive. Instead she focused on remembering the photographs she'd seen before heading to the mission. The woman was still recognizable, barely. "Agent Cara Delgado? My partner and I are from S.H.I.E.L.D as well. We're here to take you home." With a degree of embarrassment, she showed her cuffs. "Mind helping me with these first?"

Limping badly, dazed, visibly overwhelmed and speechless, Cara nodded slowly and got to work.

As soon as Natasha was free she used one arm to support Cara, who could barely walk, and lifted one hand to her ear. "Cargo secure. Are we ready to go?"

" _I'm, ah… a little tied up._ " Clint sounded slightly out of breath. " _Give me three minutes._ "

Natasha was fairly sure that she didn't even want to know what that meant. She groaned. "I'm giving you two."

" _Deal._ "

* * *

From early on the two of them noticed, Clint from his perch and Natasha from the ground, that if they wanted to even catch a glimpse of the captives they'd have to get inside. And there was only one slightly unpleasant way to make that happen. Natasha sneaked in through a window, knowing full well that a security camera caught her. Clint fought the urge to throw away his ear comm and crush it when he had to listen to her receiving a couple of mighty punches. Reminding himself that this was the only way, he got to work.

Two agents, two captives and six hostiles – they had this covered.

As expected a criminal hurried outside, assuming correctly that Natasha didn't come alone. A smirk on his lips, Clint readied an arrow, raised his bow and aimed. There was no point in luring more people outside with loud bullets so he got to use his favorite weapon. He didn't miss, as he never did.

"Luie, do you see anyone?" echoed from the fallen man's radiophone when Clint marched past and entered the building through its back entrance. "Luie? Do you copy?"

Clint encountered the owner of that voice and the man's firearm almost as soon as he entered. Just a young boy, little more than a child with shaking hands. He took the trembling kid down with a childish amount of ease. Unfortunately he still had a problem.

While taking on the kid he'd sensed someone else approaching. But even with all his training he could only take on so many battles at one go. Almost immediately after boy fell he felt the barrel of a gun pressing against the back of his head.

Which was also when Natasha's voice floated to his ear. " _Cargo secure. Are we ready to go?_ "

"I'm, ah… A little tied up." Clint glanced towards the shadow of the one threatening him. Counted how good his chances were at beating someone who held a gun to his head. And then there was the issue of a second set of steps approaching. "Give me three minutes."

Natasha groaned. He supposed he deserved it. " _I'm giving you two._ "

"Deal."

" _Nico? Handle the women. The boy and I have the man under control._ " Expensive shoes walked closer slowly. Lifting his head even with the risk of getting shot, Clint discovered the deadly calm face of a Hispanic man in his late fifties. Night-black eyes watched him intently. " _Travis? Finish him._ "

Clint's heart jumped unhealthily as realization dawned. As he understood that he might get killed by one of the two people they'd come to save. The person holding a gun to his head… These people had… what, eleven months to break down Travis. Was it enough to wipe away the person he once knew? " _So you're just going to execute me, huh? Pretty cold._ "

The older man shrugged. " _You're not going to talk. I see it in your eyes. And I don't have the patience to train another pet. Travis?_ "

The metal held against him trembled. And Clint realized that there was still hope. He licked his lips. "Travis… I'm sorry, that it took me this long to get here." The criminal's furrowed brows revealed that he didn't understand a word. Good. "But… I need you to know that I never gave up, not even when we thought that you were…" He couldn't voice the final word. The video clip of Travis' supposed execution would never stop haunting him. "I always ran out of time when I tried to look for you. But… I'm here now. Late, as usual. I never stopped believing in you."

The trembling intensified. Until, finally… "Clint?" the younger man whimpered.

"Yeah." It took all Clint had to keep himself from breaking down. Hearing that familiar voice after such a long time, after attending to a funeral… "Hey, no weeping. Everything's gonna be okay."

It's almost funny how quickly things can go phenomenally wrong.

The gun twitched once more. Then moved. Unfortunately Travis wasn't fast enough. The criminal noticed that the firearm was turning towards him and reacted instantly. A single gunshot sealed the deal. Clint turned his head just in time to see Travis slump to the floor with a bullet-hole between his eyes. Blood colored the young agent's nearly white hair red at a sickening pace.

Clint stared, barely comprehending what he was seeing. Not wanting to comprehend. Not wanting to believe that it was true. Of course no amount of delusion could change the facts.

Travis Cooper was only eighteen years, eleven months and fifteen days old when he died. When he was captured with his partner and a few months later presumed dead he'd been an active field-agent only for a couple of weeks. And he wasn't just any rookie field agent – he was _Clint's_ rookie.

Everyone else said that the scrawny, orphaned brat Phil dragged in from who knows what jail-cell was a lost cause. But Clint believed in him, the same way Phil once had faith in him. He took the boy under his wing for nine full months, trained him in secrecy when it became apparent that the education of more experienced handlers wasn't enough. He could still remember, vividly, how Travis' eyes shone from pride when he came to Clint and revealed that he'd been declared fit for field a couple of days after his eighteenth birthday.

No one but Clint believed in Travis Cooper. No one else believed that the kid was still alive, either. Which was why it took so very long before they finally found the leads that led to this point. Clint really, honestly thought that he'd be able to take the boy home alive.

Until, in a blink of an eye, in a snap of fingers, it was all over and Travis was no more.

" _Pity_ ", the criminal sighed with little emotion. " _I thought that he was good for nothing. Especially after S.H.I.E.L.D refused to pay the ransom for his safe return. But I wanted to be wrong._ "

There was a lot Clint wanted to say to that but he could only stare at Travis' body, at the glazed over sky-blue eyes that somehow still looked to him for help.

A lot of people say that when a person loses their mind they snap. That wasn't the case with Clint. He exploded.

* * *

Natasha advanced much more slowly than she would've wanted to with Cara growing weaker by each step. The massive man barreling to greet them was little help. She took him down after a brief scuffle and shuddered at the sound of a gunshot just when the criminal fell.

Immediately her hand flew to her ear. "Clint?" There was no response.

Natasha took a couple of deep breaths in a mostly futile effort to calm herself. Then looked towards Cara, who leaned against a wall, barely conscious. "Stay here." She pressed a gun to the other's hands. "Use this if necessary. Understood?"

Cara nodded, her half-open eyes wild, but didn't utter a sound.

Natasha sped on as fast as she could but the small building was like a maze. It took infuriatingly long before she found Clint. When she did she froze.

The first thing she saw was their other target's body on the floor. The second was the blood. The third was Clint, the archer's bloodied hands. The fourth was the criminal her partner was currently attacking.

The older man's legs had twisted to unnatural angles and something that looked like a bone had broken skin as well as fabric. The criminal's arms didn't look any better. Wheezing breathing revealed that the man's ribcage and ribs weren't holding up much better. The face, however, had suffered the worst brunt as Clint's fist pummeled the delicate bones over and over and over again. Was it any wonder that the man didn't seem to be conscious?

All that damage… Done in, if she estimated correctly, less than two minutes. Natasha's stomach twisted a little when her attention shifted to Clint. There were tears in the eyes that looked like those of a wounded wild animal. In the eyes that didn't seem human at all.

This wasn't the man she thought she knew.

Natasha swallowed thickly, not daring to risk approaching. "Clint, stop! STOP! STOP!" It took at least five more commands before he froze with a shudder, fist still raised. "We have to go. Before more people appear."

Clint didn't respond. It was impossible to tell if the man even heard her. Slowly, reluctantly, the archer rose. Then headed to Travis' body and flung the dead kid as gently as he could over his shoulder, leaving blood-stains on the boy's clothes. Without even looking towards her he marched past. She followed with some hesitation.

When she picked up Cara, still helping her walk, the young woman saw a quick glimpse of Clint and Travis and whimpered, eyes watering. But said nothing. The journey out of the building was tense and silent.

Natasha expected them to take off immediately. It would've been the smartest thing to do. Instead, as soon as they were at a safe distance from the building, Clint put Travis down as gently as if the boy was still alive. Then turned towards the house of horrors and froze for a wait, a chilling gleam in his eyes. Not much later a big black car appeared and six criminals jumped out. Clint waited until they were inside. Then readied one of his exploding arrows. All three of them observed as the item hit its mark.

None of them spoke while they watched the hungry flames rising towards the sky.

* * *

Eventually they'd taken Cara to a hospital and Travis to a coroner. Natasha also called Phil to let the man know how it all ended. The man's heavy sigh was a clear indication that he didn't like this outcome any more than she did. All that took frustratingly long to Natasha's liking, especially when Clint was unnervingly quiet and tense the whole time, almost catatonic.

It wasn't until she was driving herself and Clint towards their hotel the archer found his voice again. Or at least a shadow of it. "I'm sorry", he murmured, staring out the car's window.

Natasha felt tempted to ask if he spoke to her but didn't.

* * *

Evening was had already darkened and a relieving, cool breeze brushed Natasha's face when she sat by the pool of their hotel. Eager to find even more comfort she placed her legs into the cool water and sighed happily. She enjoyed herself for a few seconds before letting her gaze stray towards the pool's deep end. In the light illuminating from the water she could see a dark shadow near the bottom. The shadow remained absolutely still for at least two full minutes before bolting towards the surface. Clint gasped loudly and rubbed his face roughly with one hand while the other grabbed the pool's edge so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Either you're trying to drown yourself or you have the weirdest ways to relax I've ever seen", Natasha mused.

Clint shivered, obviously having had no idea of his audience. (Some super assassin…!) He inhaled a couple of more times before peering towards her. "Is it time to head back?"

Natasha shook her head. "Nah. Coulson said that we can spend the night, remember? Apparently we deserved a break. He'll handle Fury when the one-eyed rat gets the bill."

Clint nodded slowly, not looking towards her. After a few more deep breaths he disappeared under the surface once more. Natasha tried not to groan from frustration.

This… being supportive bullcrap wasn't her forte and he was making it ridiculously hard.

This time Clint dove forward, glided gracefully through the water. He made five full rounds around the massive pool before breaking the surface once more. His desperate looking pants wheezed and he seemed paler than before.

"Feel better?"

Clint was quiet for so long that she wondered if he heard her. Then shook his head barely visibly. "Not really. But… I'll get over it. I always do."

Natasha's eyebrow rose. "So that's getting over it?" She barreled on before he had enough breath to cut in. "Barton… What happened today… There was nothing you could've done to stop it. That kid… just got unlucky." Harsh, perhaps, but honest. She'd never been one to sugarcoat things.

"Story of his life." Clint was leaning on the pool's edge with his back towards her, so she couldn't see his expression. But the tension in his whole body spoke volumes. "He was a good kid, you know? A really good kid. I thought that…" He trailed off.

Natasha had imagined that Red Room had carved away what little heart she'd had. But something in her chest ached, right then. Questions floated through her mind but she kept them at bay. It wasn't her place to pry. "You can't save everyone", she pointed out in a soft voice she barely recognized. She held a pause to let the words take full impact. "Today… was a bad day. Tomorrow will be better."

Clint still wouldn't look towards her. But a fraction of his tension melted away. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She narrowed her eyes. "If you tell anyone about this little talk no one will find your body."

The grin Clint aimed at her over his shoulder was half-hearted at best. But it was a start. "Don't worry, your softer side is safe with me." Daring to release one unsteady hand from the edge, he gestured towards the water. "Planning on a midnight swim?"

Natasha wrinkled her nose and shivered. "I'll pass." She had a few bad experiences with water too many.

This time it was Clint arching an eyebrow. "Then what are you doing by a pool?" He had the nerve to wink. "Did you come to enjoy my marvelous company?"

Natasha snorted, which sounded suspiciously lot like a laugh. (Who the hell uses words like marvelous?) "Shut it, Barton."

Clint's second grin was slightly bigger, then he disappeared under the surface once more.

A comfortable silence lingered while Clint continued to swim off his ache and frustration. Natasha remained where she was, keeping watch although she would've never admitted it. The two had no idea of the man observing them through a hotel room's window. There was a small but genuine smile on Phil Coulson's face.

Maybe this disaster of a mission was good for something, after all.

* * *

When Clint and Natasha eventually returned inside they delivered identical arched eyebrows at the sight of Phil waiting. "What are you doing here?" Natasha shouldn't have been surprised. Their handler seemed to appear as though by magic whenever they'd wrapped up a mission. Especially if it'd been a rough one. But they'd been promised this one extra night before it was time to go home.

Phil smiled. "I got the feeling that you two needed the presence of an adult. And I needed a vacation." The man revealed a bottle. "Tequila?"

None of the three remembered much about the rest of the night. They woke up with the worst hangovers they'd ever had and one of them had a new tattoo. None of them drank tequila ever again.

* * *

End of mission

* * *

A/N: Poor Clint! But sometimes you can't save everyone. (sighs) (For extra emotional impact? Compare Travis' death to Pietro's death. I don't think I'll ever forget the way Clint stared at Pietro's body. Poor babies!) (And yup, Cooper had to get his name from somewhere.)

And for the record, I would've stayed to watch him swimming, too. (winks)

SOOOO… Was that ANY good, at all? PLEASE, do leave a note! AND LEAVE LOCATION REQUESTS! Let's add Berlin to the list mentioned in the summary. (For you, my dear friend!)

Until next time! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there. I'm off the watch 'Ant-Man and the Wasp' now. (BEAMS)

Take care!


	5. Las Vegas

A/N: It's been a while. BUT, now I'm finally back with another mission report. Yay?

THANK YOU, so much, for your reviews, love and support! They mean A LOT to me. (HUGS)

Awkay, are you ready to go? This is a slightly different kind, because we're technically starting from the end of the mission. I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride, anyway!

* * *

Las Vegas

* * *

At the age of seventy-eight Winona Stykes had lived far too close to a casino in Las Vegas for over half of her life. Which meant that she'd seen just about everything insane imaginable. Which didn't mean that life would've been unable to surprise her sometimes.

It was a rather late evening and she was returning to her home when she froze. Because there on an otherwise empty street stood man holding a woman in his arms. The man was incredibly bruised and despite his dark clothes a steadily growing moist spot could be seen. Winona had a far too good guess as to what it was. Something was also clearly wrong with his hand and she had no idea how he succeeded in holding the woman. Yet somehow the most eye-catching feature of him was the bow and arrows he had along. His companion was at least as bruised as he was and unconscious. Her other arm had been twisted to an unnatural angle. Winona's mind filled with some unpleasant possibilities as to how each of them ended up to their current conditions. Perhaps it would've been a good idea to call the police. Or an ambulance. Someone.

The man cleared his throat. Still he sounded hoarse when he spoke. "Can I, ah… borrow your phone?" He nodded downwards and she saw a phone on the street. Was that a bullet hole on it? "Mine… isn't exactly working anymore."

* * *

Phil Coulson had been through a few very, very trying days. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that there'd be several more long ones coming. So, as he entered a room at S.H.I.E.L.D base's medical wing in Vegas, he decided that he deserved the coffee he was gradually savoring.

When he entered Clint Barton didn't even open his eyes before speaking. "How many mugs has it been now? Six?"

Phil rolled his eyes. "Good morning to you, too." It was almost noon, actually, but the handler decided that it was morning somewhere. He took a long sip of his beverage, like a proper rebel. "Five mugs, by the way."

"You've got a problem." Clint himself looked like he could've used some caffeine. And a horse load of painkillers. The archer's right arm was bandaged heavily and there was bruising of various levels of severity just about everywhere.

Phil shrugged. "If I had less than three mugs after the past few days, it'd be _your_ problem", he pointed out almost cheerily. The coffee was working its magic. "How's the head?"

It was Clint's turn to shrug. "Still throbs a bit. But according to Dr. Erics my brain's not any more damaged than before." The younger man smirked. "I think she's starting to warm up to me."

Phil snorted. "She should, with how frequently you see her." He made a mental note to buy her something nice as a thank you. And apology. She was the only doctor within S.H.I.E.L.D who could tolerate an injured Clint Barton. Deciding that he didn't even want to know how difficult his agent made her life this time, Phil nodded towards the room's other patient. "How's Nat doing?"

Clint's jawline tightened. "They beat her up pretty badly. Broke her arm. She's also got a concussion. And I think we'll have a 'which one's more bruised' competition again for a while." His tone wasn't quite as light as he probably meant it to be.

Phil sighed heavily. "For the record… That competition's getting really, really old", he announced dryly. Being Clint's handler was quite possibly the most exhausting task he'd ever taken upon, with how easily the archer seemed to find ways to almost get himself killed. Now he had two agents with similar self-preservation instincts under his wing. It didn't scare or annoy him as much as it should've any sane person. "You two are going to give me an ulcer one day."

Clint finally succeeded in cracking one eye open. The other was swelling closed steadily. "Six mugs of coffee before it's even a proper afternoon will do it first."

"I already told you, five."

"Your tapping foot says six."

Phil gave the younger man a half-hearted glare. And finally relaxed, a little. Even if it still chilled him how close to a tragedy things came.

Bad intel led to Clint getting shot and the criminals, imagining the archer dead, took Natasha. Two days later the Hawk was finally able to stay on his feet properly and Phil didn't even pretend that he was surprised when the archer took off. Of course Clint didn't trust anyone else when it came to getting Natasha back.

Phil downed the rest of his coffee and squeezed the mug to hide how his hand shook. For a while he really, honestly thought that he'd lose both of his protegees. The thought rattled him far more than he would've cared to admit. "How loudly did Dr. Erics yell at you for messing up the stitches she tried to patch you up with?"

Clint winced. "That woman is vicious."

"She was surprised", Phil corrected. "I don't think anyone's done a runner on her with a concussion and a bullet wound. She may even be impressed. Might be a good idea not to piss her off for a while, though."

Clint shrugged. And appeared so innocent that it was ridiculous. "It's not like I mean to get into these messes."

"Barton, don't make me smack you when you've got a concussion", Natasha's extremely grumpy voice muttered.

Phil grinned, relief making him feel warm. "Hey. Welcome back to the land of the living."

Natasha huffed and squeezed her eyes even more tightly closed. She brought her cast-covered arm to her most definitely throbbing head. "… don't feel alive …"

Phil shrugged. "To be honest… You don't really look it." Taking her fierce scowl as a promising sign, the handler started heading for the door. "I'm letting Erics know that you two are awake for her to pester and berate. Barton, get back to bed. Romanoff, get some sleep. You two probably look worse than you feel."

"You're such a sweet-talker", Clint scoffed, a tiny smirk on his black, blue and pale face.

Phil glared at them. "I'll be back in five minutes, because you two clearly need adult supervision." And regular concussion checks, but even thinking about that made his stomach squirm worse than coffee did. "And when I return, I want to see you both in bed, sleeping."

"Yes, dad", Strike Team Delta mocked, and Phil mused with horror and amusement if this was what parenthood felt like.

Just before Phil left the room he peered over his shoulder. On a ridiculously uncomfortable chair Clint tried to take a position that wouldn't irritate his newly stitched gunshot wound. Then reached out one of the legs he'd lifted to Natasha's bed and poked her gently with his foot. Natasha rolled her barely open eyes, but curled up the best as she could. Then grabbed his leg, squeezed it and finally relaxed, obviously comforted by the feel of him there. (Phil could only imagine how the supposedly heartless former assassin felt during that brief period of time when she wondered if Clint was really dead. He was never going to bring up that subject, of course, because he valued his life.) With her calming down a little bit of Clint's tension faded as well.

The two of them murmured something. Phil could only distinguish one word. 'Safe.'

Yes, Phil decided. They were both safe. And he'd make sure that they stayed that way. At least until they'd get into another ridiculous trouble that he just wouldn't be able to prevent. But for now he deluded himself into believing that such trouble wouldn't come. And decided that he needed coffee.

Maybe after some more coffee he'd have the energy to face a disgruntled doctor at her wits' end. And to explain this whole mess to Fury. Both of those things were more pleasant than watching over Clint and Natasha to ensure that they'd let themselves recover properly before being stupid again.

But he didn't mind, not really. How could he, when he was ridiculously overjoyed that he still had two of them to babysit? Not that he would've ever made the mistake of telling them as much.

* * *

End of mission

* * *

A/N: Phil, you big softie… (smiles fondly) Thank gosh those two both made it!

SOOOOO… How did you like this slightly different outing? Any good, at all? PLEASE, do let me know! I LOVE hearing from you.

Until next time! I really hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


End file.
